It Was Always Him
by Bri28
Summary: Armour piercing ammunition feels like cheating, but that's what the bad guys do, isn't it? These bad guys and their bullets have forced one man to sit by while the other bleeds. It seems sometimes there's no ordering death away.


**It Was Always Him**

The pain was unspeakable, but then Gibbs was never much for speaking. Still, it stole his breath and sent tremors through his leg muscles. With difficulty he forced them to move, half walking, half stumbling across the debris-strewn rooftop. Upon arriving at his destination his knees gave out and hit the hard, gray surface of the roof. Reaching out, his hands joined the blood-covered hands of his second, altogether ineffectual in the struggle to stem the flow of blood from the three bullets holes in DiNozzo's chest.

"Dammit DiNozzo," Gibbs breathed. He hadn't wanted this to be. When DiNozzo's warning that the suspects were using armour piercing ammunition came over their headsets Gibbs had wanted – had needed – to believe DiNozzo's assurance that he gained the knowledge through observation of the bullets' effect on his environment, not his person.

The warning had likely saved the rest of the team, forcing them to be even more cautious than usual. They had managed to clear the warehouse, killing three of their assailants and taking the fourth into custody. They had been transferring the man to the car when Ziva had called out, alerting them to a sniper on the roof. Gibbs had barely had the time to turn before the sniper fell and DiNozzo's voice came, assuring them the shooter was down. Gibbs had wanted to believe that the breathlessness in the man's voice had been the fault of the years and pizzas between this day and that day so long ago when he'd met the athletic, young Baltimore detective.

Even while racing up to the roof, he forced himself to believe that the blood trail he followed was that of one of their attackers, not that of his senior field agent. He had held on to the fantasy until emerging from the battered metal door onto the rooftop and having the hope ripped from his grasp. The sight of DiNozzo, collapsed, lying still against the slanted portion of the roof in a growing pool of his own blood had momentarily frozen Gibbs and brought back a feeling he'd prayed he'd never feel again.

"Never could resist Kate's stuff. She hated that," DiNozzo managed between gasping breaths, adding bafflement to the shock and pain DiNozzo could plainly see in his boss' eyes. He hated being responsible for forcing those emotions on his mentor and, he knew, the rest of the team. It would be a surprise to everyone that it was the vibrant, ever-joking, over-sexed Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo who was killed in the line of duty. He knew most everyone expected that it would be the serious, nothing-but-the-job, Lead Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs whose life ended with a line of duty death rather than retirement. Except that wasn't right. Gibbs, Tony knew, had more than the job. Gibbs had his father, his woodworking, his memories. Gibbs knew how to be someone else. His hiatus to Mexico had proved he wasn't ready to let go, but it had also proved he was capable of it. It was Tony who had nothing but the job; who knew only how to be an enforcer of the law. Truthfully, he had always known it was him who would go out on the job. He'd been completely serious when he'd told McGee that he was running out of almosts.

Tony could see the guilt written on Gibbs' face and wished he could relate some of his thoughts to the man who was the only person after whom he'd ever really wanted to model himself. He wished he could tell Gibbs that he'd always been heading down this road. Hell, before he met Gibbs he'd been racing down it at ninety miles an hour. It was NCIS and Gibbs' guidance that had slowed his pace and no doubt added years to his life. More than that, they'd added amazing life to those years. His worst day at NCIS was still better than his best day of his life before. At NCIS he felt whole, complete in a way he'd never experienced before. Tony desperately wanted to explain all this to Gibbs, but his blood-flooded lungs just refused to cooperate. He was drowning, drowning on dry land. It was a sickeningly familiar sensation. Looking up at Gibbs he realized that the man was preparing to give him the same order he had in the blue light. This time he knew he couldn't obey. He could try, but this time he was too far gone and he was horrified and shamed that his last act on Earth would be to betray the most important person in his life.

Gibbs opened his mouth to order DiNozzo to hang on when he froze, his gaze caught by green eyes flooded with fear. Gibbs' breath caught when he realized that the man, who had become so much more than his senior field agent, was terrified, not of dying, but of being given an order he could not follow. Gibbs thought back all those years to blue lights and a room so full of fear that it was a wonder any of them could breathe. It had been easy then. A fifteen percent chance of survival was enough, knowing that DiNozzo was healthy, a fighter. Fifteen percent was enough to order him to fight; to tell him that he would not die. Gibbs didn't have extensive medical training. He could never remember exactly how much blood a person could lose and survive, but his years as an investigator had taught him to recognize when there was too much. DiNozzo's was too much. Far too much. Gibbs' selfish streak longed to order him to live anyway, knowing that if anyone could, it would be DiNozzo. That DiNozzo would fight if Gibbs ordered it. He just couldn't bring himself to do it. Maybe he was a bastard. Almost definitely, actually, but he wasn't so much of a bastard that he'd give his loyal Saint Bernard an order he couldn't obey. He briefly wondered which one of them was more screwed up; himself for calling the closest he had to a son his dog or Tony for liking it.

Fighting past the lump in his throat, Gibbs leaned closer, whispering "It's okay, Tony." The relief that immediately replaced the fear in DiNozzo's intense green eyes pushed Gibbs ever closer to losing his battle with the tears clouding his vision.

It seemed that there should be words. That there were things that should be said. If Abby had been there she would have been babbling a mile a minute, trying to express her feelings. However, Gibbs' vocabulary didn't contain the words to express just how much the younger man meant to him. He supposed he could try, but it would be awkward and he'd be damned if he'd make DiNozzo's last moments awkward. Looking into his longest serving partner's eyes Gibbs found understanding and knew that there were no words for what they had. They both knew. That just left the words that the still insecure man needed, but seldom truly felt he deserved. Keeping his blue eyes locked on the slowly closing green ones, Gibbs forced his voice to relay the necessary words.

"I'm proud of you, Anthony."

Tony had never had the vocabulary issues of his superior, but he found there was only one thing that really needed to be spoken. There were letters for all of them in his apartment, but this deserved to be said aloud.

"Thank you, boss."

And because he didn't want to create more unpleasant memories for his mentor and father-figure, he put on his best genuine DiNozzo grin and brought Ziva's prophecy to fruition.

"I've seen this film..."

With that Tony's eyes closed and Gibbs was left holding his hand and feeling his pulse fade away. It was completely gone by the time the EMTs reached the rooftop and pulled Gibbs away from DiNozzo's all-too-still body. He was pushed back and caught a flash of colour in his peripheral vision. So focussed on his, now gone, senior field agent had he been that he had failed to scan the area. Doing so now he saw the slightly wilted bouquet of flowers and several realizations hit him at once, overwhelming him. Gibbs turned away, fell to his knees and vomited.

* * *

"Hey Katie. Sorry about dying on your rooftop."

* * *

A/N: So there we have it - my first fanfic and it's a deathfic. It certainly wasn't what I was expecting to write. This sort of popped into my head as a result of reading far too much NCIS fanfic (though really, is there such a thing?) This particular realization likely hit me while reading something by either Richefic or Alkaline Teegan or a combination of the two. I'd recommend checking them out as they are both much better than I am and write extraordinarily well. Oh and since you've apparently made it all the way down here, presumably by reading the story, thank you, thank you, thank you! I appreciate you taking time out of your day to read my little story. If you have an opinion you'd like to share or have spotted an error or whatever, please do tell - review :)


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